by T. A. White
The others moved away, taking a section to examine, moving across it with methodical thoroughness. Nathan straightened, interest written in the lines of his face now that they moved with a purpose. Their task had bought them a little more time.
“I’ve found one here,” Vale called.
A few minutes later, Roslyn raised her hand. “Here as well.”
A thorough examination of the area uncovered no other columns capable of producing a new sound. It was progress, but not enough.
Tate glared at the three columns, her friends standing by each one. “Try stepping on them at the same time.”
The three obliged, pausing and listening as the wind played a melody with the unseen pipes. Tate felt the faintest spark as the notes tugged at her soul. Other than that, there was no reaction.
“Maybe we have to achieve a certain sequence,” Vale offered.
“Might as well try it,” Tate said. At least until they had a better idea.
They took turns stepping up, changing the pattern and timing every so often. Nothing caused a reaction.
Frustration moved through Tate as she folded her arms. Why would Jaxon create a riddle she couldn’t solve?
“Wait, there’s something there,” Roslyn said. Her head tilted as if she was listening to something only she could hear. “The flow of magic has altered. I wasn’t certain at first, but the last two sequences we tried made the biggest difference.”
“What do you mean?” Tate asked.
Roslyn hesitated. “The academy teaches that the source we draw on, the power we call magic, fluctuates and flows across the planet like a great ocean. Some of its currents are deep and powerful, others are eddies, barely offering more than a slight sip. Unless I’m totally misreading what I’m feeling, this place acts as a sort of nexus.”
Tate didn’t comment. She’d gotten a similar feeling herself. The power she felt thrumming beneath her feet was much like the wind, flowing in opposite directions and causing a tornado of power.
“These notes have been redirecting its flow. Smoothing it out,” Roslyn said.
Its aligning this world with the inbetween, Ilith whispered.
Her dragon’s voice was strained from the effort to speak through their muffled bond.
If Ilith was right, Roslyn was more on the mark than she knew.
“So why isn’t the gate opening?” Dewdrop asked.
“We’re missing a key element,” Tate said in realization. “Vale, do you have the journals?"
The guardian nodded and fumbled inside his robes. Tate had let him carry the one Keel had given her. Vale would have a much better chance of interpreting its contents than she.
"Are you prepared for what might happen if we unlock this mystery?" Ryu asked. His voice was inquiring without being challenging. He was simply ensuring she'd thought over every eventuality.
"Not really." Her smile was strained. "I feel like we're riding an avalanche to the edge of a cliff with no way to disembark before we plunge to our deaths."
Understanding reflected in his eyes. "Then hold tight, my ahveena and don't let go. I'm rather fond of your ass being in one piece."
“What does that mean? Ahveena?” Tate asked. He’d called her it several times. She didn’t recognize the word.
“It’s hard to put into words in this language. It’s meaning has many nuances.” He slid her a sideways look. “In this instance, it means priceless treasure. It’s a term of endearment.”
Tate looked away, her cheeks warm. This wasn’t the time or the place for such things. Their lives hung in the balance, but somehow Ryu still managed to get under her skin.
As always when things got too deep, she retreated.
"You worry about yourself," she told him, redirecting the conversation. "Between the two of us, I'm the one with more experience in these matters."
"If by experience you mean sleeping the centuries away before waking to land yourself in one sticky situation after another," he drawled in a dry voice.
"That's exactly what I mean," she told him, lifting her chin haughtily.
“Here it is,” Vale said, handing her the journals.
Tate wasn’t surprised to find Nathan closer than he’d been earlier. He shamelessly eavesdropped, his eyes glittering with a proprietary greed and anticipation.
What was more surprising was finding the Harridan had done the same thing, her gaze just as cloudy and unfocused as before.
Tate took both journals, flipping through the pages as she studied the annotations that had so fascinated Vale earlier.
“If you had to guess, which of these seem more connected than the rest,” she said.
His chin dipped and his forehead furrowed thoughtfully. He took his journal from her and flipped to the diagram he’d shown her earlier. Tate echoed him, finding the page he thought went with the one in his hand.
She could see why he thought they connected. To the unobservant eye, each drawing would seem like they were unfinished.
She took the journal from him, ripping a page out. She ignored the small sound of protest he made as she folded it and held it to the other page.
Perfect match.
"Roslyn, how versed are you in music theory?" Tate asked.
Roslyn's gaze flickered uncertainly. "I've had lessons since I could walk. All of my family have. The talent seems to run in the family all the way back to Jaxon."
"Yes, he always did love to play," Tate said almost to herself.
She shook herself out of the memories, as she considered what her next step should be. Ryu had brought up a good point. Solve the riddle, possibly endangering the lives of everyone on this planet. Don't solve it and risk her friends.
It was a hell of a position to be in.
"Tatum, don't go getting any bright ideas," Nathan warned in a silky voice. "It would be a pity if I had to kill one of your new friends to force your compliance."
Tate ground her teeth, biting back the words that wanted to escape. Time and leverage. That's what she needed right now.
"I have a theory," she said, raising her voice so he could hear.
"I'm all ears."
"First, I need everyone off the columns," she said.
He studied her for a long second. "Explain."
She took a deep breath before tilting her head.
"What do you hear, Nathan?" she asked.
His head cocked, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Three notes, played in a certain order."
His eyes narrowed as he considered.
She hummed the start of a song.
He sucked in a breath his lips curving. "The March of Fools."
"That's the one," she said.
She could just barely remember the chords. She knew the start and some of the end, but the middle was a little hazy.
"Why is this important?" he asked.
"You said it yourself. Jax liked riddles. He was obsessed with them. What better riddle than a song only I would realize the significance of?"
A song he’d played for her over and over again until she could hum it in her sleep, despite never being particularly good at music. Something he'd assume would never be forgotten in the normal course of things.
"It's only the first part," he said.
"That should be enough.” Tate hadn't quite figured out the last part, but she knew they were close.
"How?"
"If everyone would get off the columns, I might be able to figure that out," she snapped back.
For a second the world froze around her, and Tate thought she'd made a mistake, one that might cost her.
He observed her for several breaths before he threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, I've missed that snark. I'm glad you haven't lost that part of yourself."
Tate didn't have anything to say to that, so she said nothing.
"Listen to her. Let's see what she's got," Nathan said when he sobered.
The Silva drew back, retreating to the ledge overlooking the columns and leaving Tate
and the rest of her friends behind.
“Do you really know how to solve this?” Vale asked.
Tate took a deep breath. “Maybe.”
“If you fail, he’s going to kill one of us.” Dewdrop pointed out.
“Then I guess I’d better not fail.”
Ryu waited beside her as she considered the three columns, each equidistant from the other. She had the pieces; she only needed to put them together in the right order.
Roslyn had said the last two patterns had created the largest reaction. Tate figured that meant they were close.
However, having a theory wasn't the same as implementing a solution. Tate knew what needed to happen but she hadn't quite figured out how to make it happen, even with Nathan making his impatience increasingly obvious.
Instead, she listened and considered.
Three notes, played in a certain sequence. Only it was impossible to tame the wind and force it to comply. There was no way to guide it where she needed it to go to play the melody she knew had to be played.
It was a riddle worthy of the man she'd once known. Something she'd be able to appreciate more if there weren’t lives hanging in the balance.
"Let's try this again," she said. "Vale."
Vale leapt onto his column. Tate waited for the note to sound.
"Roslyn."
Roslyn did the same, the note shifting.
"Dewdrop."
The next note played long and low.
Tate waited. Now that Roslyn had pointed it out, she was aware of the tide of power running through the area. She could feel as it twitched a little more into place, but not enough.
Her lips tightened. That was the correct sequence. She was sure of it. Why hadn’t it worked?
She lifted the journal but didn’t see any hint that might point her in the right direction. It was depressingly like Jax to leave out the most important piece.
"It needs to resolve," Roslyn said suddenly.
Seeing she had the attention of everyone, Roslyn's expression filled with uncertainty. "It sounds similar to an appoggiatura. It's a non-chord tone that is dissonant to the rest. The melody—if you can call it that—approaches before leaping up a step, which means we need to resolve down a chord step."
"Yes, but resolving it is the question," Nathan called. "One of you had better figure it out before I start killing people."
"What's the chord?" Dewdrop asked.
Roslyn hesitated. At a reassuring nod from Tate she hummed a note.
“Ryu, take my spot. I think I have an idea.” Dewdrop hopped off the column and made his way five columns directly behind it. He nodded at Tate. "Let’s run through it again."
They stood by their columns waiting for Tate's command. Briefly, she felt like a conductor of one of the symphonies she'd heard of in Aurelia. Only instead of instruments she had people and in place of an audience she had a psychopath who wouldn't hesitate to massacre everyone here if he wasn’t happy with the end result.
Tate centered herself, emptying her mind of negative thoughts. Mentally she started up the song she had been running through her head every time they did this.
She waited until they got to the right part. "Vale."
A beat later, "Roslyn."
Ryu was last, taking his place with a smooth leap.
A pure note fell from Dewdrop's lips seconds later, reverberating through the space, resounding and echoing back. A human shouldn’t have been able to create that effect, the note rolling through the place, sending chills down Tate’s back with the long eerie toll.
Between the lifted hands of the statues a flash of blue lightening crackled. There was a brief flicker of light between the arches before it fell into nothingness.
“Wait,” Tate said, lifting the two pieces of paper. She held them up toward the others, her eyes moving between them and the drawing. There were five points, equidistant apart.
She realized with a start, her friends’ positions matched that of the drawing. Her thumb touched the edge of what she’d thought was another drawing below, this one of hands almost touching—very similar to the statues of the arch.
It all matched. Everyone was in the right spot except her.
She hurried to a column in front of Dewdrop. When she took her place, they would represent a bow. Vale, Roslyn the curved wooded back; Ryu, Dewdrop and Tate the arrow, with her being the tip.
“Once more,” she said.
They took their spots, running through the sequence again. Only when Dewdrop’s low, clear chord rolled through the air did Tate crouch on her column and place her hand against it.
Power stung her fingers, leaving them tingling as it shot through their working.
Christopher had been right—Jax and the rest did like to tie things to blood, even if in this case it’d been tied to Tate’s rather than his progeny.
Anticipation sang through the air as rivers of power fed into the arches. The columns buzzed and sang, lights glittering in their depths.
Tate held her breath. She felt like she was on the cusp of something momentous and if she moved wrong, she might ruin everything.
The power accumulation burst. Tate winced as her eardrums popped.
Lightning arced between the statues’ upraised fingers.
She could feel the electric charge in the air, snapping and prickling as it raised the hair on her arms and the back of her neck.
The space between the arch shimmered, almost like a mirage in the desert. Tate watched with a hushed awe as the wind and stones fell silent. A black flat disk coalesced, filling the arches until she couldn’t see through them anymore.
"What is that?" someone asked in a hushed voice.
Tate drew near, fascinated. She reached out and touched it, somehow surprised when her hand met air, nothing prevented it from passing through its surface.
"Finally," Nathan breathed next to her.
Tate jerked her attention to him. The consequences of solving this riddle had yet to be determined. She hovered on the edge of attack. There was no way she could let Nathan have whatever was beyond the gate.
A ripple of movement on one of the statue’s shoulders behind Nathan caught her eye. She went still as Night, followed by a smaller bearcat, this one with a nub of a tail instead of a barbed one, crept headfirst down the statue’s body.
Nathan failed to notice them, his attention entirely absorbed by the phenomenon in front of them.
"He created a pocket realm. He was always so clever," Nathan said to himself.
Tate didn't respond, too caught up in the unexpected appearance of allies.
Abruptly the bearcats bolted down the statue’s side. Night leapt, his claws outstretched, his muzzle wrinkled in a snarl.
He hit Nathan, sinking his teeth and claws into the man. Mia pounced seconds later. Animalistic snarls filled the air.
"Tate," Dewdrop screamed.
She turned to find the Harridan right beside her. The woman’s eyes suddenly cleared and she gave Tate a sweet smile, right before turning and plunging her fist into Nathan's chest. "I die as who I am. My blood to summon you. The pact is complete, protect us in our hour of need as was promised."
Nathan screamed, the sound agonized. It sent fear skating down Tate's back. Blue wreathed his hands as he struck the Harridan. Blood sprayed as she stumbled back.
He grabbed Mia and flung her away. Night, he grabbed by the neck and ripped him off, the bearcat tearing chunks of Nathan’s skin when Night's teeth and claws refused to come unlatched.
He held Night before him as her friend thrashed in Nathan's unbreakable grip. Nathan sneered as the blue around his hand deepened, forming an edge Tate knew was as sharp and lethal as a knife. "We should never have let your kind exist."
All around them stone split and cracked. The large statues of the Silva shook themselves awake.
"We’ve heard the Harridan's call and we answer her sacrifice." The words rolled through the air as if from a thousand voices.
Nathan looked aro
und him as the living statues moved with surprising speed toward Nathan’s monsters. "What is this?"
Tate took advantage of the distraction. She sprinted across the uneven ground and tackled Nathan. He dropped Night, spinning to meet her as her body collided with his and they toppled backward into the black disk.
The world slid sideways, the feeling strange but familiar. She had one second of weightlessness before she hit the ground with a jarring thud.
She rolled away from Nathan, trying to put as much space between the two of them as she could.
She made it to her knees before she looked up, freezing in place, her stomach sinking as she realized she was no longer in the Harridan's city. Behind them, no sign of the black disk remained.
Their surroundings were alien and unfamiliar. Somehow, they’d stumbled into somewhere else. Somewhere she suspected that wasn't on their world at all.
Nathan didn't move from his back as laughter shook him. It was an unexpected response considering she'd just tackled him through a portal that had taken them Saviors’ knew where.
The last time she'd gone through one of these she'd at least ended up in a place she recognized. She'd known if push came to shove, she could make it back to where she'd come from. There were no such assurances here.
It was entirely outside her realm of experience.
They had landed on an outcropping, giving a bird’s eye view of a chasm far, far below them. One riddled with sharp spires stabbing straight up.
The air was hazy and lit with a red glow, giving a slight cast to their surroundings. The haze made it impossible to see the sky.
She squinted as dark shapes formed and the haze drifted. All around them were great arches, hovering in midair. They were upside down, the arc of the arch aimed toward Tate instead of the sky. Barely visible symbols were etched on them. Their surfaces were cracked and broken, while a bright red glow shone through as if the material underneath was molten lava trying to escape.
The place was impressive. Majestic even. But it didn't inspire the same awe she'd felt looking at the singing rocks or when she stood in the Saviors’ hall. There was too much fear crouched in her gut for that.
This land didn't invite you to stay a while, and when it touched your soul it didn't leave behind happy thoughts. No, there was a kernel of fear as her subconscious told her she needed to be very, very careful.